


Here and Always

by kay_emm_gee



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Bellamy stumbled into camp with Monroe, Mel and Octavia, he didn't know if he was more surprised that Clarke was back or that she was lying on her mother's operating table."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here and Always

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this right after 2x04, before the (epic) hug pictures came out, so this is how I imagined Bellamy & Clarke's reunion. It also turned out a little more fluffy/romantic than planned, but I guess that's my inner shipper coming through. Whatever happens between them romantically, I ship their friendship so hard.

When Bellamy stumbled into camp with Monroe, Mel and Octavia, he didn’t know if he was more surprised that Clarke was back ( _Clarke was back_ ) or that she was lying on her mother’s operating table. He called out her name, sharply but with so much relief. She turned towards him, and cried out—she had jerked the stiches Abby was sewing into her abdomen. Octavia slid Monroe out from under his grasp. “Go,” she whispered. He moved to Clarke swiftly, determinedly. Staying out of the medics’ way, he stood at the head of the table, looking down at her.

“Hey,” was all she said. “You’re upside down.” Her eyes glittered with tears. “Hi.” Then she smiled, and said, “You’re here.”

Bellamy laughed, then replied, “Doubted that I would be?”

“No.” So definite, her response. It eased the tightness in Bellamy’s chest, something he hadn’t noticed until now.

Clarke winced as Abby pulled on the stiches again, and she sucked in painful, labored breaths. “Where is Finn? And Raven? What happened to you guys? How—”

“Shh, Clarke. You have to stay calm and hold still, honey,” her mom advised briskly. “I have to redo the ones you’ve ripped just now, then you need to rest. Get your answers after that.”

“Bellamy, just tell me—”

“They’re fine, Clarke.” The relief he saw in her face at those words was endearing, as was the gratitude for him knowing how badly she needed the reassurance. “I’ll give you the details later. You might faint on me now and I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

He smiled jauntily, she scoffed, and he laughed softly at her tenacity. He knew she so badly wanted, almost needed, more information—just as badly as he needed to know her story—but now was not the time. They both knew that.

Bellamy watched as she closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip, jaw clenched tight. He brought his hands up to lightly frame her face, leaning down closer. Her mud-caked hair crinkled against his hands, and he was glad his own dirt blended right in. Quite the King and Princess, they were. He brushed his fingers against her tense jaw. Her eyes flew open, bright and blue, so clear and clean in contrast to her damaged face. She stared right at him as he lightly massaged away her tension. “Relax, Clarke.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to focus on him, and he felt her muscles give beneath his touch. As her mother continued to stitch, Clarke didn’t break eye contact with him once. The smell of blood and antiseptic, the quiet murmur of the others, and the pain of his own injuries all fell away. All he could see was bright blue, all he could hear was her breathing, all he could feel was her rough face beneath his even rougher fingertips.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.” She began to smile, then suddenly whimpered in pain. Her eyes immediately shuttered closed. The connection broken, Bellamy glanced up and noticed Abby stitching near the center of the wound, where it was the most damaged.

“Come on, princess. You got this,” Bellamy whispered. Clarke nodded, eyes still shut tight. The tension had come back into her body, and she twitched reflexively. Bellamy cupped her head more securely as she cried out again. Her eyes flew open at the next pull of the thread, once again staring at Bellamy. She squirmed. “We need to save them, Bellamy. He’s got them, and we’ve got to get them before—”

“Hold her still,” Abby commanded, standing to brace Clarke’s abdomen better.

Bellamy leaned in even closer, whispering, “We’ll get them Clarke. We’ll find them.” He moved his thumbs against her cheek, his palms pressing against her hair.

“You and I. We will find them,” she breathed, eyes slowly blinking closed as she succumbed to the pain. “We will.”

* * *

Later that night, after Bellamy had checked on Octavia and the other girls, he wandered over towards Clarke’s cot. Abby was there, watching her sleeping daughter. She had given Clarke a sedative after she had passed out, saying rest was the best thing for her. Bellamy knew Clarke though; he knew she wouldn’t get any true rest until their people were together again. He knew he certainly wouldn’t, which is why he whispered to Abby that he would watch Clarke for the night. She had given him a long, motherly look, strongly protective and so reminiscent of his own mother’s fierceness when it came to Octavia. All he said in response was that he had the answers Clarke would want when she woke, and at that, Abby relinquished her post.

In the dimly lit, quiet corner, Bellamy sat down on the edge of the chair, elbows braced on his knees. Dropping his head, he stared at his hands and not at Clarke. He’d already catalogued all of her injuries: two gunshot wounds and a knife wound to her left arm, the knife slash on her abdomen, many severe facial lacerations, a black eye and dozens of other scratches, some long since healed. The how and why of those healed ones spun around in his head until he was dizzy. Impatience kept creeping up on him, but he wouldn’t wake her for almost anything. Time hadn’t been kind to any of them since they had arrived on Earth, and he would give her as much as he could now.

For hours, Bellamy stared at his hands, wondering, until Clark suddenly moaned. He jerked his head up in response. The night’s shadows played across her pained face, which was flexing in anxiety as she dreamed. She shifted worriedly in her sleep, and her hand twitched. It reached out, seeking something. She called out again, hand flexing. Bellamy’s hand flew to catch it before he realized what he was doing. Hers was small compared to his but still so strong. She gripped him desperately for a few seconds; then, her tension began to trickle away. Slowly, she slid her fingers into his so they were intertwined, then curled them so their hands were clasped comfortably. Her eyebrows relaxed, and her mouth softened. Bellamy squeezed her hand, and she sighed. He quietly moved his chair forward, allowing their still-connected hands to rest on the cot next to her.

“You’re here,” she whispered in her sleep. “We will find them.”

He smiled. “I’m here, princess. It’s you and me. Always.”


End file.
